War Stories
by Mitis Lumen
Summary: Set during Voldemort's first rise, this story focuses on five original characters and their contributions to the war effort. Canon characters, such as the Marauders, will also make an appearance. Some liberties are taken with the canon.
1. Chapter 1

_It was another rainy day in Great Britain, giving the wizarding town of Hogsmeade a sort of dreary look. Not that it was cheery to being with. It had been almost twenty years since the Death Eaters' occupation of the settlement, yet still a feeling of uneasiness persisted. No matter how many rebuilding projects were issued by the Ministry, the scars of war could never fully heal, it seems._

_On this particularly wet afternoon, a nice drink at the Hog's Head seemed appropriate, so it wasn't so surprising that the tavern was particularly full that day. What one may find surprising, however, were two figures hunched over in a corner booth. One of them was an old man in his sixties. His body looked frail, his head had almost no hair, and his eyes would sometimes become cloudy, all of which pushed his apparent age much older._

_The other figure needed no introduction. Hermione Granger still had the bushy brown hair and the slightly bossy voice. Right now, on an assignment from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she was using that voice with good effect, "You know why I have come here. I want to hear your side of the story."_

_The old man was amused. "That's good to know." He stretched his arms towards the back of his head. "Well then, there's nothing more to do but proceed with the story, is there?"_

"Come on! Get moving!"

"I am moving! What, you think these legs are just running in place?"

"Then move faster!"

"Guys, shut up and focus on the running!"

"Where the hell are they, anyway?"

A ray of green exploded on the tree near the threesome. One of them, a girl with striking blond hair, tightened her grip on the small package she had been keeping under her armpit and retaliated with a burst of red from her wand before she followed her comrades in retreat. There was a muffled profanity coming from the other side of the shot.

To their sides were more movements. The boy with the dark red hair and brilliant blue eyes scowled. "They're covering our flanks. The tricky bastards."

At the first sign of black cloaks, the tallest of them muttered something that sounded strangely like "_Engorgio_" before pointing his wand straight in front of him. In response, a strong gust of wind blew a flurry of dry leaves and stick towards the enemies, causing them to fall back reeling.

The group ran until the forest suddenly opened up into a clearing. Right in front of them was the night sky as the ground gave away to a rocky drop.

"Great. Now we're surrounded," the one with the blue eyes muttered. He twirled his wand in his hand. "Fine. If it's a fight they want, it's a fight they'll get," he said as he stopped and turned around, his face a strange mixture of seriousness and giddy excitement.

Suddenly two more figures popped in near the cliffs, a boy and a girl, both of them holding on to a ceramic plate. The boy's other hand was wearing a mitten and holding a spatula. He would not be out of place in a kitchen.

As soon as they arrived, the girl erected a barrier right in front of her, just in time for it to absorb a sickly looking spell thrown at her. It would later dawn on her that it could have easily been a Killing Curse and she would have been dead, but right now her focus was on providing cover fire for the other team.

"Get back here!" she called the boy who by now was launching hexes at an alarming rate towards their pursuers. Looking back to his comrades, he turned around and together they gathered around the two newcomers. They threw the plate on the ground, causing it to shatter into thousands of pieces and all five reached out towards the spatula. The moment they touched the item, the world around them—the masked pursuers, the moonlit forest, the terror and the battle—faded away.

When the world returned (the ground, to be precise), it decided to smack Christine Iver in the face. She picked herself up in annoyance and spit out the little dirt that got in her mouth. All around, her friends detangled themselves from each other and quickly stood up from whatever embarrassing position they found themselves in after that frantic escape.

Christine removed strands of golden hair from her face and looked around. They're still in the forest, but a different forest. Not far from where they were the trees ended in open grass. Hogwarts Castle was only a small distance away from the Forbidden Forest. They could see the silhouette of the castle standing against the night sky. "Everybody alright?" she asked.

"I still have all of my limbs," one of the boys said wryly.

"A good thing too, considering you were about to fight at least half a dozen Death Eaters on your own," the tall young man, whose name was Kenneth Tennyson, added. "Didn't know you care that much for our safety, Alexei."

Alexei Volkov responded with a short snort. He then addressed the young man who's taking off his mitten at the moment. "So the portkeys work fine after all. Not bad, Calder."

Daniel Calder ran his fingers through his black hair sheepishly. "I think I set the port location of the return one a little bit too close to the ground."

"The important thing is you made it work at all," Christine pat him on the back. "Nice thinking, using that plate. Who knows what they could do to track us with it if we didn't destroy it."

"That was Mischa's idea, actually," Daniel motioned towards the other girl. She also had dark hair, which contrasted nicely against her fair skin.

"I'm just glad I could help without getting myself killed." Mischa Augustyn let out a weak laugh. "So… we got it, right?"

Christine held out the wrapped package she had been carrying. It was small, thin, and rectangular. It's amazing that they had fought hard and put themselves in danger for something that looked so insignificant. Yet it wasn't insignificant, as all five gathered around it with a tired but relieved smile. In fact, acquiring it may mean they could finally turn the tide of the war.

* * *

In a sense, all fanfictions are AU. Even those that try their hardest to comply with the canon will have to admit sooner or later that their stories come from their own head, and not from the author, and therefore cannot be considered canon. None of these original characters exist in the books (otherwise they won't be considered "original" of course), but it is my intention to write a story that can theoretically fit into the canon. How well it fits, however, is left to the readers.

Comments and critiques are welcome, of course, as this is my first major fanfiction project that does not (will not... hopefully) devolve into crack fic and thus the only one I dare to publish.


	2. Chapter 2

_The air in the Hog's Head was filled with smoke and smelled like months old beer. Not butterbeer, mind you, "beer." Around them people talked and sang and danced loudly. And yet none of them bothered Hermione at the moment. Her eyes were fixed on the strange old man in front of her._

_"What was it?" She asked. "What did they acquire?"_

_He shrugged. "I don't think any of them fully knew, actually. What they knew at the time was that it was extremely powerful and that people have been looking for it for a long time." He paused before continuing, "A little bit like the Philosopher's Stone, don't you think?"_

_"What are you saying?" Hermione asked, being quite familiar with the Philosopher's Stone and having aided The Boy Who Lived in protecting it._

_The old man shrugged. "It's just a comparison, young lady. Nothing more. Now, talking about the Philosopher's Stone…"_

The Philosopher Stone. Out of the many many things mentioned in the History of Magic class, this easily was Alexei's favorite. And Alexei liked many many things relating to the History of Magic.

There's something alluring about a substance capable of turning common metal into gold, or a stone that bestow its owner with the Elixir of Immortality itself. Unlimited wealth and immortality, two of the most important things anybody could aspire for. Imagine the things one could do with such assets.

Of course, some believe that the Philosopher's Stone is not a real rock, but rather an abstract concept. They believe that it represents a state of mind that enables someone to do things deemed impossible, even by magic. It is a state of mind that allows someone to cheat death itself. With it lies unbridled potential, unlimited power. Regardless of what the Stone is, it's still something worthy of pursuit.

As Alexei was walking out of the most recent History of Magic lesson, he mindlessly stroke the house crest on his robe. The House of Slytherin, for those with ambition and limitless cunning. In some ways he's the poster boy for Slytherin. He could trace is lineage back through a long line of Pureblooded aristocrats, each one was a member of the house. In other ways, however, he would be considered unusual, especially considering what he thought about the house.

Right now the house is sick. It has been sick for a very long time, but these last few years had been the worst. It's the rampant blood superiority, the belief that people of certain blood—Purebloods, they call it—are somehow innately superior than the rest. Alexei found the idea rather disturbing. It's not that Alexei cared about social equality or that he thought racism as distasteful. It's just that in his experience, blood played no role in determining someone's power. To think otherwise is to limit oneself from attaining the greatest power and support one can get otherwise. Alexei firmly believed that power is attained, not born with and that anybody can acquire it. Limiting one's choice of friends to those born with only certain blood means to ignore other equally powerful potentials for allies.

His reverie was broken by a raucous sound down the hallway. He looked ahead and saw what he had expected; another brawl. These had become rather frequent lately among students. It seemed that the war outside had found its way into the walls of Hogwarts. Not a professor was even in sight.

Alexei recognized the students involved, too. One of them was Slytherin, a thin, gangly boy his age with unkempt, greasy hair. Severus was his name, if Alexei remembered correctly. He wasn't that good with his wand, but none could argue his genius in potions. Right now he's right on top of the other student, throwing his little fists into whatever opening he could find.

His opponent, although more athletically built, seemed to have a lot of trouble fending himself against Severus. His glasses lay broken on the floor beside him as he tried his best to push his attacker away from him. So much for James Potter, best Chaser ever, Alexei thought. Fortunately for him, his friend, tallest of the three, quickly intervened and flicked his wand towards the Slytherin. In moments, Severus found himself lifted by the ankle several feet off the ground. Alexei knew him as the particularly unpleasant Sirius Black.

Severus tried his best to struggle, but he couldn't free himself. Alexei could not hear exactly what was said, but it seemed that the two friends were taunting the hanging kid. Alexei's hand fidgeted in his pocket as he reached for his wand. He didn't mind a fair, one-on-one fight, but two jocks ganging up on a wiry little kid is hardly fair. Especially when the wiry little kid might just help him with his potions homework if he successfully aided him.

The sound of authoritative footsteps approached from behind him. Alexei glanced back in time to see one headmaster Albus Dumbledore breezing past him. With but a few words, he managed to get Severus back on the ground and James and Sirius with their wands tucked behind them. He then motioned all three of them to follow him, presumably to his office. Severus was looking as sullen as ever. Alexei, however, noticed the odd expressions on the other two combatants, the two Gryffindors.

They had flashed quick smiles to each other.

* * *

"War Stories" started as a conversation between me and my friends about the kind of characters we would be if we were students at Hogwarts. For all intents and purposes, the OC here are self-insert characters. My first and main concern when I started writing the early drafts was to address this very issue. After all, in my opinion there needs to be a reason for inserting original characters when Rowling has provided us with a world filled with numerous rich canon characters. At least a reason beyond self-fulfillment. In the end, I use these otherwise unheard of characters during Voldemort's first rise to explore new perspectives about the struggle: one independent of the biases (yeah right, we know it's impossible to be unbiased anyway) of the Order or the Death Eaters.


	3. Chapter 3

_"So you are familiar with the Philosopher's Stone?"_

_"Oh, what kind of self-respecting enigmatic old guy would I be if I didn't? Flamel might have been credited of developing it, but the concept itself predated him by several centuries."_

_Hermione nodded, not wanting to be thought of as ignorant. "Yes. The possibility of its existence was in fact already theorized by Arab wizard Jabir ibn Hayyan way back in the eighth century."_

_"And you know that from your fancy training from the Ministry, eh?"_

_"As a matter of fact, yes." The slightly derisive tone of his comment was not lost on her. "But we're not here to talk about my education, or even about the Philosopher Stone. I am more interested in your account of what happened during Voldemort first rise." She off-handedly dropped the name as some form of test, to see the old man's reaction to the dark wizard feared so much that most can't even bear to hear his name._

_The old man didn't even blink at the mention. If any, his eyes grew even more intense, as if the name awakened something in him. "You'll forgive for starting my statement with a cliché, but those were uncertain times. Those were times when you could not be tell the good guys from the bad guys…"_

"Don't you think Sirius is cute?" Christine whispered to her best friend.

Mischa, striding next to her and trying to keep up with Christine's characteristically rapid gait, almost tripped when she heard this. "Really, Christine? Sirius? That boy's trouble!"

"Oh hush! It's not like we can really call him a boy. He's our age, for Merlin's sake!"

For the upteenth time Mischa was amazed by how easily Christine assimilated the wizarding culture and expressions. She knew that Christine came from two Muggle parents and, until the letter came, had never heard of "magic" before in her life, at least not in the non-fictional sense. She had also seen herself how excited Christine was when she discovered this whole new world of wonders and adventures. She only wished that she hadn't come at such a poor time, for there had been talks of wizards and witches dying in their own homes. Entire families killed by means the Daily Prophet did not reveal. Dared not reveal. Some students even started to eye Muggle-borns suspiciously.

Meanwhile, Christine was talking, "Besides, I'm sure he's very nice underneath all that tough guy exterior."

Mischa shook her head and smiled. "And I'm sure it's the same nice guy that skulk around the school at night with his friends searching every corner for… actually I don't know what they're searching for. And the same nice guy who set off a dung bomb in Peter's pants."

"Yeah, but Peter's one of his friends. They do things like that to each other anyway. And it's not as if they attack specific people like _some_ other group of students."

Christine could hear the change in tone in her friend's voice. By now she's adjusted to Mischa's ability to alter her voice to convey exactly her feelings. Right now it's a serious tone, with a clear indication that she's trying to sympathize with Christine. "Hey, I'm not saying that he's evil or anything, and if you really like him I support you, but I just don't want you to be disappointed later."

As if answering for Christine, they heard a soft grunt followed by a series of laughter as the two second-years turned the corner. The sight in front of them was not an uncommon sight in those days; a boy, most likely a second-year just like them, sat against the wall, on his face an expression of pain. On his robe was a blue crest with a silver eagle. Three older students, the crest on their robes marked them as Slytherins, stood menacingly.

The boy struggled to speak, "I… I told you what you wanted to hear," he gasped. "Please leave me alone."

"Doesn't matter, see," one of the boys smiled cruelly. "People like you shouldn't have been allowed to come here."

Mischa didn't need to turn her head to sense Christine tensing up. She had known Christine enough to know that bullying was one of her berserk buttons. She rested her hand on her shoulder, "Let's call for a professor."

"No time," was Christine's reply.

"Christine, you're putting yourself in danger." Her voice was level, but there was a nervous edge to it.

The girl ignored her friend's warning and marched towards the group, declaring her presence loudly, "Leave him be, cowards!"

All eyes were suddenly on the small and not physically imposing Christine. The three upperclassmen seemed taken aback for a moment, perhaps worried that this girl in front of them had backup. When they realized that she had none, they sneered, "Stick your nose elsewhere. We want nothing of your self-righteous chivalry."

"Sorry, but you're about to get more." Christine recognized that voice anywhere. Although not yet broken, it already had hints of a silky deep vibrato to it. At twelve years of age, Sirius already showed the beginnings of the strutting fine example of manhood he's going to become. Already the charm shone through the messy, longish hair and the mischievous smile.

"Let's see… seven against three. I don't like your chances," his friend James chimed in. The other two of the group that just arrived at the scene stayed silent, but it was obvious that they were prepared for a fight too.

The stalemate lasted for several full seconds before the Slytherins backed off. "Bah, it's not worth it," one of them said as turned away and walked in a satisfyingly hurried pace.

Christine marveled at how easily, how coolly Sirius—and his friends—handled the situation. Even Remus and Peter, usually the ones in their group least inclined to seek confrontation, stood by and were prepared to defend their friends if necessary. All to help a person in need. That's what friendship is about, what being Gryffindor is all about. That's…

"…so awesome!" Peter exclaimed, grinning broadly.

"I have to admit, we handled it pretty well," Remus joined in. The others grinned and clapped each other on the back. Somewhere, a balloon was being deflated.

While the Marauders (of course, at this time they were not technically known as that yet; the name came later) were busy congratulating themselves, Christine slowly approached the battered boy, who was queasily and discreetly trying to stand up. "Whoa, take it easy, there. Are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes, I think I am," he tried to smile, but it came off more like a grimace. "Thank you. It's… I'm… thank you."

"Let's take you to the nurse," Mischa suggested.

"I'm alright. I'm… used to it."

Christine looked at her friend in disbelief before turning her attention back to the boy, "But you shouldn't. Get used to it, I mean. I don't like what they're doing to you, to this school."

"Neither do we." That voice again. As she turned, Sirius was giving her one of his patented lop-sided smile (guaranteed to make all girls within a twenty-foot radius swoon. Or take out the pepper spray), "Hey, you stood up against those slimy snakes. I like that in a girl. So… you're Christine, aren't you?"

Blush. "I don't believe we've talked before."

"Well, it's hard to forget the voice who keeps answering all the questions in Transfiguration, isn't it?"

Her face definitely turned a shade of purple now.

"Eh, that means less chance of us being asked to answer them," Sirius shrugged.

Remus was tugging his arm. "Come on, Cassanova. You're just going to upset her further."

James pushed Sirius out of the way. "Forget this fool. See you around, Christine," he said as he shooed his companions away with him.

"So… crush?" the Ravenclaw whispered to her friend.

"Oh yeah. Very much so."

* * *

The hardest factor in writing fanfictions really is discipline. You might enjoy creating stories and characters, but you still have to put them on paper (or, in this case, in a text file). For somebody like me, who has recently experienced large changes in his life and has to work really hard to put it back where he wants it to be, it can be a challenge. So I apologize for the long update times. Hopefully once regularity returns to my life, I can update more often.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hermione Granger shivered, as if a cold wind suddenly decided to blow inside the Hog's Head. She had learned from her classes and from talking to people how horrible it was for a wizard or a witch to live in England in the 1970's. In her own turbulent times, she had allies, loyal friends who she was sure would not betray her, but most people of that time could not even afford such luxuries. _

"_Trusted friends were rare things to find in those days. Sometimes even established friendships were tested, and were broken…"_

It's funny how certain words, certain conversations, can linger in the air longer than others.

"I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chose mine."

"No—listen, I didn't mean—"

"—to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?" Even in the unnatural quietness that was Hogwarts castle at night, it's amazing how far and wide words could travel.

The portrait swung close with a slam, covering back the "secret" entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Lily Evans's arm instinctively went across her face to wipe away the sudden stinging sensation on her eyes. She glared ahead as she realized that another girl was standing near the common room's fireplace, transfixed in place. She had a gray blanket wrapped around her, covering her from neck to toe.

"How much did you hear?" Lily winced at her own accusing tone.

"Enough," Christine answered honestly. "I'm so sorry, Lily." What else is there to say in a situation like this?

Lily sighed. "I've always felt sorry for Severus, you know. I think that's why I stuck with him after all this time. But after this… I don't know. I know I have to do this, but it still pains me."

"You _have_ to do this?"

Lily looked at Christine with fiery eyes. "These… these Pureblood supremacist! They are doing precisely the very thing that was done to Sev all these years. They bully and threaten people like us—and for what? Because they think we're lower than dirt? You know this, don't you?"

Christine nodded quietly, her voice took a bitter turn. "Yes, I do."

"I did the right thing, didn't I? I can't be a friend of someone who chooses that kind of path."

"Lily, you know I hate those Slytherins as much as you do, but I think you're making a mistake." Lily was ready to retort, but Christine quickly said, "I understand where you're coming from, and were I in your shoes, I'm not sure what I would do, but if there's something I value a lot, that's friendship and loyalty. I see what you had with Snape, and it's beautiful. He… I think this is when he needs you the most."

Lily turned her head away. "He made it clear that he does not need me. I've talked to professor Dumbledore about this."

"Dumbledore?"

Lily nodded. "He called me to his office earlier this afternoon. I think he called all of us, James and Sirius and Severus. He wanted to know what happened."

"And what did he say?"

"He said that sometimes it's better to cut off an infection before it spreads further. He said that he knows full well how painful it could be, but you cannot help someone who will not help himself."

"He's a wise man," Christine responded. "Although I still think this is a mistake."

"Then I'm sorry. Not all of us can be as strong as you, Christine. My relationship with him was bad for me. I can't allow it to continue."

Christine dropped herself unto the chair near the fireplace, suddenly feeling exhausted. "I know. I just hope you come out of this alright."

A pair of arms belonging to Lily wrapped themselves around her. "Thank you for being a good friend, Christine," the owner said before heading towards the staircase. She paused and looked back for a moment, "Don't return too late, now."

Christine turned towards the disappearing red hair and she smiled to herself. Indeed, Lily was one of the brightest witches she had ever met. She quickly jumped out of the chair and let her blanket fall on the carpet. Underneath she wore a simple and practical outfit of jumper and jeans and sneakers with a black cloak over it. She quickly slipped out through the portrait entrance.

Four other cloaked figures greeted her went into the courtyard. She greeted one of them, "Glad to know you got here without any problems."

"Is everything alright?" Kenneth responded. "You look distracted."

"Yes, I'm fine," Christine answered. She looked at the rest of her compatriots. "Are we ready? Everybody knows the plan?"

"All set up. I think," Daniel answered in his characteristic soft voice.

He was wearing a kitchen mitten on his left hand.

* * *

I have a confession to make. I don't really like the way this chapter turns out. There's just something awkward going on with the conversation, I'm just not sure what it is. Oh well. Let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

"_So what do you think?" the old man peered towards Hermione from the top of his mug. "Did Lily do the right thing?"_

_Hermione wondered whether this was retaliation for her testing his reaction to Voldemort's name. It had been a while since this issue last surfaced—almost twenty years ago, in fact. Fortunately, this also meant that the event had become distant enough to where she could take a step back and view it from an (relatively) objective point of view._

"_I think she threw away a troublesome but long-lasting friendship because of a slip of the tongue during the heat of the moment and that there were better ways she could have handled it. However, she had a good reason to do so and her response was perfectly understandable."_

"_Conventional wisdom," Her companion scoffed. "You'd make a good diplomat one day."_

_She frowned, refusing to take the bait to go into a tangent. "With all due respect sir, I find your story hard to believe. A group of Hogwarts students fighting one of the most powerful dark wizards of all time, all the while still attending school. And they do this without even the knowledge or the help of the Order or Albus Dumbledore?"_

"_Well, the Order of the Phoenix wasn't the only group of resistance fighters, you know."_

Five figures gathered under shadows of the Hogwarts castle, their appearances haggard but the glow on their faces rivaled that of the full moon itself. In the middle of this gathering was the object for which they had risked their lives. Daniel had to stand on the tip of his toes so that he could at it. The rest circled in awe. On the outset, there's nothing spectacular about it; it was a flat, roughly rectangular piece of stone slightly bigger than a floppy disk, and not much thicker. It wasn't cold to the touch, despite having been exposed to the night air.

"Why the silence, guys? We won! Time to bring out the tart fuel and wenches," Kenneth grinned, then realized that he needed to amend the sentence, "Well, except for the girls, I suppose. Unless you ladies like women. Which I'm not complaining about."

Alexei sighed. "Tennyson, please quit. Just… quit… while you're only behind a little."

Christine gathered everyone's attention by clearing her throat. "As much as I'd like to see Kenneth's public drunkenness behaviors, we still have work to do." She glared pointedly at Kenneth. "You'll take this with you, I suppose?"

"Huh, no fun at all," Kenneth remarked while picking up the object. "But you're right. My sources should be able to tell us more about what it is and why those Death Eaters were so intent on acquiring it."

"Wait a minute," Alexei interjected. "Can't you tell us more about it?"

"I have told you all that I know." There may be a slight irritation in Kenneth's voice. "Besides, whatever it is, if the Dark Lord's followers want it, then we're going to keep it from them."

"I trust him, and I trust Christine. We're all on the same side here, and Kenneth's been a part of this from the beginning." Mischa put her hand on Alexei's shoulder.

Alexei grudgingly deferred. "Well, what are we waiting for, then? Let's go back to the castle before somebody notices us." He glanced at the dark-haired girl, who unconsciously tightened her cloak around her neck. "Besides, it's getting chilly here."

The group skulked towards the castle, keeping alert for unwanted eyes. After all, they _were_ out after hours. Coming from the direction of the Forbidden Forest didn't help either. Daniel mumbled under his breath, "It'll be nice to have an invisibility cloak one of these days."

As they climbed unto the second floor landing, they slowed down beside an ornate mirror decorating one corner of the hallway. During the day, the interactions between the light coming in from the mosaic windows and the mirror would bathe the hallway in soft, multi-color shapes, but the mirror seemed out place and lonely at night. Daniel and Mischa carefully moved the mirror aside, then Kenneth tapped the wall behind it twice with his wand. The wall flickered, as if suddenly nothing more than a light projection, then blinked out, revealing a darkened secret passage.

"Alright, wish me luck. I'll contact all of you as soon as I can," Kenneth waved his goodbye and almost flung the tablet out of his hand. For several long seconds nobody breathed. As he was tucking it under his robe, in a more secure location, he grinned sheepishly. He then disappeared into the passage and the wall flickered back into existence.

"Luck, eh? Seems we'll be needing more than that," Daniel observed.

It wasn't long before Kenneth resurfaced on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. The passageway had led to a well-hidden opening by the side of a small hill. The Shrieking Shack (newly named thus because of the haunting cries coming from its direction within the past several years) loomed behind Kenneth. He looked at his watch. It's that time of the month again. Sure enough, the Shack soon lived up to its name.

Kenneth moved away from the tortured moans and head towards the Hogsmeade proper. In the middle of the night, the village was quiet, with almost a deserted feeling. This being the heights of You-Know-Who's reign of terror, the inhabitants had made it a habit to lock themselves in their houses when darkness arrived. A cloaked individual walking down the main street at night would have attracted attention, but most people were too scared to do anything about it.

Kenneth turned into a rarely used alleyway, towards a side entrance that just begged not to be noticed. He put the tip of his wand into the keyhole. There were faint whirring sounds coming from the door, before it opened with a click. Kenneth stepped inside.

The room was nothing more than a typical storage. Crates and barrels were scattered almost haphazardly along the walls. There were several bottle racks in one corner, filled with what's presumably butterbeer and other bottled drinks, alcoholic or otherwise.

What seemed out of place, however, was the small gathering of people in the center of the room. Even though they were sitting on crates arranged in a circle, Kenneth immediately noticed the tenseness in their postures. They were looking in his direction for several seconds, their hands already reaching into their pockets, before they realized the identity of the intruder.

"You're late," a man in his late forties greeted Kenneth in a calm tone. It was immediately obvious that he's the leading figure of this gathering. The rest relaxed at his voice.

"What? Did you miss me already, Melvin?" Kenneth sauntered towards the group. Several of them rolled their eyes. "We encountered some unexpected interference."

"What kind of interference?"

"The Death Eater kind," Kenneth answered off-handedly.

Arthur Melvin nodded wearily, as if he had expected that answer. "They caught on quicker than I though. At least tell me that you have it."

Kenneth pulled the package from under his cloak and laid it in middle of the circle for all of the men to see. He addressed Melvin, "Gee, thanks for your concern. We're all fine too."

Melvin unwrapped the stone and put it on his palm. "I can see that you are alright. Whether the rest of your… 'minions' are is of no consequence."

The playful glint immediately disappeared from Kenneth's eyes. "They are _not_ my minions, Arthur. I've fought alongside them for several years and they are more than equal to any of us. I'd be proud to call them friends."

"And you're doing a very good job of convincing them of this, but don't get too carried away." The room became eerily quiet. The rest of the men looked back and forth between their leader and this young man.

"I've known them even before I came to you," Kenneth retorted. "Their lives are important. They are important."

Melvin sighed. "We have talked about this before, Tennyson. You can't get too attached to them, and you can't get attached to anyone. Remember what we are doing here and why we're doing it."

The two locked eyes for several long moments before each took a step back. An agreement had been reached between the two of them. Kenneth, however, was still in a sulking mood, "You'll tell me once you've found out what this thing really is and why the Death Eaters want it?"

"Of course," Melvin simply said.

Kenneth looked at the group one last time before turning his back and disappeared out of the backdoor.

* * *

I really have to thank my friends (ya know, the ones whose avatars are shamelessly put by me into the story) for "reminding" me to continue writing this story. Otherwise, this probably would have fallen into the the abyss that is my hard drive, never to see the light again. Also, I've finally figured out how to change the story's settings so that readers may leave comments. I think.


	6. Chapter 6

_There! Amidst the tangential ramblings, Hermione finally found what she was looking for. "You are talking about the Knights, aren't you?"_

_For the first time there was genuine surprise on the old man's face. "Oh? So you've heard about them? How much does the Ministry know about the Knights, I wonder?"_

"_Not much," Hermione admitted. "We know there were other resistance movements during the First War. Most of them either consolidated themselves with the Order or were quickly crushed. People were just too afraid to make any decisive move against the Death Eaters. The Knights, however, they were more of a mythical force. Even the Ministry would not openly admit they existed, much less that they were involved in the fight against Voldemort, especially considering who they were supposed to be."_

**The Knights of Walpurgis (c.a. 870-?)**

Despite its long history, few facts are known about the Knights of Walpurgis. Part of it is because the wizarding community in general has always maintained a high degree of secrecy ever since the break with the rest of the world, but another part is because the Knights do not wish themselves to be known, even by their fellow wizards. Most wizards are not aware of their existence or think that they're merely legends. We, however, have gathered enough information to conclude that The Knights of Walpurgis is a very real and prominent presence.

The earliest account of this organization dates back to the late 9th century. We now know this period as the last of the Great Schisms as we see a shift in human focus from the so-called pagan superstition into organized religion. Real wizards during this time period actually faced relatively few dangers, as they had many tricks at their disposal to elude pursuers. A few of them, however, thought that it wasn't enough. They thought that they shouldn't have to hide themselves from the non-magical folk. In fact, they sought a dominant magical community, one that rules over all lesser beings on earth, including the people who are not sensitive to magic, the ones they've come to refer to as "Muggles."

We are unsure as to the origin of the group known as "The Knights of Walpurgis," but most sources agree that it started with a group of wizards terrorizing the area around Blocksberg in northern Germany. The attacks seemed to occur at certain dates of the year, which was designed to cultivate local legends and myth surrounding them. This band of terrorists would earn a reputation of being a powerful coven of witches, sometimes even with demons at their commands (most likely untrue, given what we know of wizarding culture of the period).

The attacks eventually slowed down and stopped. We have attributed this trend to actions by the Ministry of Magic against the organization. It should be noted that the motive of this intervention was not necessarily to protect the non-magical folks, but rather to maintain secrecy. We do not know what happened to its members. Were most of them incarcerated in Azkaban? Were they given pardon? What about the surviving members? What we do know is that the doctrine of magical superiority stays around until the current era and even plays an important part in wizarding politics. There are even whispers that the Knights survive and that they continue to influence the Ministry of Magic's policies.

If this were true, it's only a matter of time before war breaks out. As long as the notion of blood superiority exists, there can be no everlasting peace in this world between the magical and non-magical world. We must act soon. This is the moment that we've all been preparing for. This is...

Arthur Melvin looked around for the remaining parts of the document, but failed to find any. He stepped gingerly over the smoked ruins and corpses littered around him. Others around him were sifting through the remains as well. The battle had been costlier than what he'd anticipated. These people… the extent of their preparations were staggering. And that made them dangerous. Had this been anything but a surprise attack, he wasn't sure that they would've won. It seemed that they would need to take more drastic actions against the enemies in the future.

"Sir!" one of his subordinates, a young man in his mid-twenties, called. "We've gathered what we can."

"Very good," Melvin answered coolly. "Prepare for evacuation. We'll burn everything else from the air."

At the thought of using a magic as powerful as Fiendfyre, Tom Marvolo Riddle smiled in excitement.

* * *

Hey, it's that guy! And that guy!


	7. Chapter 7

_The old man clasped his hands together. "Very impressive. The brightest witch in our generation can back up the claim it seems," he said as he leaned forward. "Yes, the Knights of Walpurgis would later on become to become a certain Dark Lord's followers."_

"_That's what I've gathered from what few information we have on them," Hermione said._

"_You are unconvinced."_

"_And are you?"_

_He shrugged. "There was once a time when I pride myself as a gatherer of facts, a keeper of knowledge. Now? Now I sit in the corner of some tavern telling war stories to a beautiful young woman in the hopes that she might get me some free drinks."_

_Another change of topic. Fine. It's obvious that the man knew something more about the Knights than he let on, but the haste in which he deflected this particular line of questioning meant she would need another hook for him to answer her questions._

"_Very well, then. Let's go back to these other players in this conflict, these students who fought against Voldemort during the first war."_

_He grinned. "I'm glad you understood."_

This is it. The end of the journey. And what a short journey it has been! Daniel blinked once as he felt his life leaving him. It's rather funny; he never thought he'd die in such a… dramatic circumstance. He's never one to put himself in danger, not even for the "greater good," so he had always thought that when it all ends, it's going to be peaceful, mundane. As his short life flew before his mind's eye, he focused on that one event, that one most important thing that happened in his life.

_Flash_

"Come on, say it,"

"I am a disgrace to the wizarding community and my kind should feel lucky that we are still educated in the ways of magic." There was no emotion, no conviction in the tone of his voice.

Daniel sat against the wall, on his face an expression of pain. On his robe was a blue crest with a silver eagle. Three older students, the crest on their robes marked them as Slytherins, stood menacingly. One of them laughed and pointed his wand at him anyway.

"I… I told you what you wanted to hear," he gasped. "Please leave me alone."

"Doesn't matter, see," one of the boys smiled cruelly. "People like you shouldn't have been allowed to come here."

Ah, so that's how it's going to be. He looked into the faces of his attackers, remembering well their looks. He braced himself for the curse that never came. Instead, a shrill voice called out behind them, "Leave him be, cowards!"

All eyes were suddenly on the small and not physically imposing girl. Her heroic pose seemed odd but fittingly, considering the situation. Her friend was less than thrilled, however. The three upperclassmen seemed taken aback for a moment, perhaps worried that this girl in front of them had backup. When they realized that she had none, they sneered, "Stick your nose elsewhere. We want nothing of your self-righteous chivalry."

"Sorry, but you're about to get more." More had joined into the fray, it seemed. At twelve years of age, Sirius already showed the beginnings of the strutting fine example of manhood he's going to become. Already the charm shone through the messy, longish hair and the mischievous smile.

"Let's see… seven against three. I don't like your chances," his friend James chimed in. The other two of the group that just arrived at the scene stayed silent, but it was obvious that they were prepared for a fight too.

The stalemate lasted for several full seconds before the Slytherins backed off. "Bah, it's not worth it," one of them said as turned away and walked in a satisfyingly hurried pace.

"That was so awesome!" Peter exclaimed, grinning broadly.

"I have to admit, we handled it pretty well," Remus joined in. The others grinned and clapped each other on the back.

While the Marauders (of course, at this time they were not technically known as that yet; the name came later) were busy congratulating themselves, the girl slowly approached the battered boy, who was queasily and discreetly trying to stand up. "Whoa, take it easy, there. Are you alright?"

For a brief moment, at least for Daniel, she seemed to be outright shining. Perhaps for once in his life he felt like somebody cares for the perfect stranger that he was. That perhaps there's yet chance for him to find someone in this school he can talk to.

"Yes. Yes, I think I am," he tried to smile, but it came off more like a grimace. "Thank you. It's… I'm… thank you."

"Let's take you to the nurse," the other one, the one with the darker hair, suggested.

"I'm alright. I'm… used to it."

"But you shouldn't," his rescuer protested. "Get used to it, I mean. I don't like what they're doing to you, to this school."

"Neither do we." That voice again. As she turned, Sirius was giving her one of his patented lop-sided smile (guaranteed to make all girls within a twenty-foot radius swoon. Or take out the pepper spray), "Hey, you stood up against those slimy snakes. I like that in a girl. So… you're Christine, aren't you?"

Blush. "I don't believe we've talked before."

"Well, it's hard to forget the voice who keeps answering all the questions in Transfiguration, isn't it?"

Her face definitely turned a shade of purple now.

"Eh, that means less chance of us being asked to answer them," Sirius shrugged.

Remus was tugging his arm. "Come on, Cassanova. You're just going to upset her further."

James pushed Sirius out of the way. "Forget this fool. See you around, Christine," he said as he shooed his companions away with him.

"So… crush?" Daniel whispered to her friend.

"Oh yeah. Very much so."

_Flash_

It was two weeks later.

The cold wind grazed Daniel's cheeks like hundreds of tiny blades, yet the young boy tried his best to keep up with the girl in front of him. They were hiking across the grass, away from the castle proper. Dark clouds hovered overhead. Christine seemed impervious to the weather even though Daniel surmised she had about the same amount of clothing covering her small frame as him.

"I didn't know…" pant "…that you are so…" pant pant "…interested in Queeritch."

Christine looked back at her companion impatiently. "Surely you meant 'Quidditch.'"

"My name is not 'Shirley.'"

"Oh, you just butchered the word 'Quidditch' and now you're making fun of _my_ pronunciation?"

Daniel shrugged, letting the matter drop. In the short time that Christine had known the soft-spoken young boy, she noticed that he had the tendency to do that, to start a discussion only to lose interest in it moments later. Daniel quickly grew on her. There's something about how cautious he conducted himself and how distant he kept himself from the crowd that invoked her pity, so soon she found herself including him in her activities. In a sense, Christine was grateful of her newfound friend. It seemed right to her, to help those who are weaker than her, just like her parents have always told her.

In front of them loomed the Quidditch stadium; a throng of students were between them and the entrance. The first game of the season, especially one between Gryffindor and Slytherin, usually attracted a lot of attention, even from student who normally would not care too much about the sport.

Which reminded her, "Hey, thanks for coming with me, by the way. I know you don't enjoy Quidditch that much."

"Eh. I figure the companionship isn't too bad," Daniel answered. "Besides, isn't Gryffindor's new star going to play for the first time today? James Potter, right? The Seeker."

"I don't know where these rumors of James replacing Quentin are coming from. James is playing as a Chaser, not a Seeker." Christine corrected him. A flash of electricty arced across the clouds, causing the girl to frown. "Great. Looks like it's going to be a wet game today."

Daniel followed the lightning as it danced across the sky. He was expecting thunder to follow soon, yet the sound that came to him sounded foreign. It seemed too loud, yet too light at the same time. That's no thunder. It's…

_Flash_

Despite the sounds of battle all around, Daniel calmly stared at the man in front of him. Then his gaze fell upon what the man was holding. It's the first time he's seen the object up close, yet he knew full well what it's capable of.

This is it. The end of the journey.

* * *

Among other things, Albus Dumbledore used to be one of the best Queeritch players of his generation.


	8. Chapter 8

_"Christine Ivers, Mischa Augustyn, Alexei Volkov, and Daniel Calder. Those were their names. They were all gifted individuals, in their own ways. There was one more person of interest, however, one that we haven't seen in details yet."_

_"Kenneth Tennyson," it was more of a statement than a question. "I was wondering how he fit into all this."_

_The old man smiled slyly. "Why, Kenneth was the one who brought them all together, of course."_

When Kenneth arrived at St. Mungo's (Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries), he knew that something big had indeed happened. For one, the Welcome Witch, one who had almost been a permanent fixture in the reception area, was not present. For another, numerous healers and what looked like Aurors zipped through with that air of purpose one sees when they're on Serious Business.

He grabbed a young healer at random who looked back at him apologetically, "I'm sorry dear, but we're in an emergency here."

"I know, I heard," Kenneth responded. "Please miss, you must help me. I'm looking for Cassandra…"

"Strout! We need somebody on the fourth floor, now!" someone barked at her.

The healer pried herself off Kenneth's grasp. "Listen, I just work here. Even if I want to help you, I can't do that. Speak to Mr. Bartleby if you're looking for someone," she said as she pointed towards a middle-aged wizard who was dictating to a floating parchment-and-quill next to him. The carefully combed dark hair and the neatly trimmed beard all but yelled "bureaucrat." He's only slightly overweight, but the billowy robe he wore did not help his figure.

Bartleby barely acknowledged the young man approaching him, even as Kenneth cleared his throat to gain his attention. However, Kenneth knew exactly how to be annoying should he choose to do so, and he was clearly not in the mood to kid around. He snatched the parchment from the air, breaking whatever enchantment was put on it. Now he certainly had Bartleby's attention.

"What do you think you're doing?" he tried his best to look authoritative and menacing, but his posture made him look like a ridiculous, puffed up frog.

"Cassandra Carver. She's admitted here earlier today, I know it. Where is she?"

Not to be outstaged, the frog puffed up some more, "You will _not_ speak to a representative of the Ministry in such an unwashed way. Give me your name, young man, and I shall…"

"The man is with me, Bartleby," the voice was calm and smooth but carried with it a degree of finality that even Bartleby was taken aback by it. He and Kenneth turned around towards the source. Unlike Bartleby, the gentleman wore a dark suit so common in the Muggle world that Kenneth would've thought of him as one, were it not the obvious fact that he seemed comfortable and entirely in charge in this wizard hospital. Even now, all he had to do was to motion Kenneth to follow him and Bartleby backed down.

Kenneth, putting two and two together, exclaimed, "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Arthur Melvin, at your service." The man nodded. "I know how you feel about miss Carver. She's an exceptional girl. I just wish I can help more people finding their loved ones after this tragedy."

Kenneth instinctively pulled out an open envelope from the inside of his coat. "Imagine the surprise of my parents when they saw that I received a letter from the Ministry of Magic itself. On Christmas break, to boot. I think they expect a job offer or something like that."

"Ah, I see the letter arrived unharmed," Melvin responded in the same cold tone that he used earlier. "Then you understand what's going on."

Kenneth didn't answer, but Melvin kept walking. They went up a staircase and through the window Kenneth saw that whatever chaos happened inside the building hadn't spilled forth outside. Yet. St. Mungo's front cover, an abandoned department store called "Purge and Dowse, Ltd.," looked void of activities as usual. A very fortunate thing, too; the last thing the wizarding world needed was Muggles attention.

They arrived on the fourth floor, the spell damage section, which made Kenneth shudder. For one reason or another, most patient here either came out different, or didn't come out at all. Melvin, however, had continued talking, "The attack on Diagon Alley surprised all of us. There were a lot of civilians casualties… too many."

Kenneth's response was almost a whisper. "Cassandra was shopping there with her parents. For Christmas, she said. She's so excited. Told me that she found something for me. Now I wish I've come along with her." His eyes grew uncharacteristically dark. "Those dark wizards will pay…"

They stopped in front of one of the wards. Two wizards stood on each side of the entrance. It took Kenneth roughly three seconds to realize that they weren't healers or in any way connected to the hospital. No… they looked strangely more like goons. The wizards, however, bowed respectfully when Melvin approached. The older gentleman held the door open for Kenneth.

Two rows of beds lined the walls of the room, virtually all of them full. Men, women, and children… whoever did this were truly indiscriminate. Kenneth even recognized some of them as students from Hogwarts, just like him. Even worse were the cries of pain which assaulted his ears as he entered, but Kenneth forged forward, especially when he saw the figure lying on a bed across from the window. He ran towards his girlfriend.

Cassandra Carver was awake. No, not entirely awake, Kenneth soon realized. Her eyes were open, but she was staring straight towards the ceiling and made no reaction when he rushed to her side.

"Cassie…" Kenneth whispered, holding her hand. "I'm here now." No response.

There was a loud bang outside, the sound of a door being slammed open. Then, sounds of people rushing. Another patient had been brought in. Its effect on Cassandra was immediate; Kenneth felt her hand gripping his arm like a vise. The girl suddenly turned towards him, "No! Mommy! Daddy! Pop, goes the weasel. Pop. Pop. Pop." Suddenly she sat up. "I have to go. I have to go!"

"Wha…? Cassie…" Kenneth tried to calm the girl down, but now Cassandra threw the cover away and began to get out of the bed. Kenneth gaped in horror when he saw blood starting to seep out of the bandage across her torso. "Cassie, please, you have to stay in bed."

Melvin's reaction was quick. He went outside and within seconds returned with several healers in tow. They pushed Kenneth out of the way unceremoniously and proceeded to restrain the girl, who was sobbing uncontrollably now. She looked at him one last time and Kenneth only saw insanity, "Please… I don't wanna sleep…"

"Get me out of here," the words came out of Kenneth's mouth so effortlessly even he was surprised by it. Melvin, however, silently obliged and escorted him out of the wards, out of the hospital entirely.

Kenneth could feel his heart beating normally again when he and Melvin were out in the streets, amongst the Muggles who still went through their daily lives as if nothing important had happened. He felt bile rising in his throat, but managed to suppress it. They walked into a deserted alley before they continued their discussion.

"This is the first time they dare attack in the open," Melvin said. "The Aurors are doing what they can to find the perpetrators and prevent this from ever happening again, but judging by the strength of the force we encountered, I think this group is stronger than anything else the Ministry have encountered so far." He pointedly looked at Kenneth. "Honestly, I don't think the Aurors have the manpower needed to combat this threat."

"What must I do?" There was no hesitation, no reservation.

Melvin sighed. "Mr. Tennyson, if this fight is to be won, we have to plan for a long term engagement, which means it's going to be won or lost within our educational institution."

"Hogwarts? What does it have anything to do with this?"

"The attack on Diagon Alley revealed one important detail: our enemy fights in the name of blood supremacy. That much is obvious from the hate-filled propaganda they preached even as they caused chaos and destruction." Seeing the comprehension in Kenneth's eyes, Melvin smiled. "Ah yes, I see you are familiar with the concept. It's been a growing trend, I fear, the idea that the worth of a wizard is tied to the purity of his blood. As you presumably have seen yourself, even your schoolmates are not immune to such ideology. Can you imagine what would happen were these individuals able to recruit from the school setting? They will be able to replenish their forces practically every year."

"So how do we stop them?"

"We need to find allies within the student body ourselves, ones who can move more freely than we can and fight for us."

"You would have children fight for you?"Kenneth asked suspiciously. "Wait a minute… you're not with the Ministry, are you?"

"No. We're not," Melvin admitted. "I came from an organization that works separate from the government. The Ministry would have us arrested, but rest assured that we fight only for the safety of the wizarding community. So you see, we need a group of people who can operate independently from us, away from the Ministry's eyes. Meanwhile, we're doing everything we can to keep everyone's eyes trained on us, so you can work in relative safety."

"I'm not finding children soldiers for you."

Melvin nodded. "The choice is yours, of course, but how long do you think before they strike again? How long do you think before we have victims just like Cassandra? No, we're not asking you to send these children to their deaths unnecessarily. We just need a presence in Hogwarts to keep an eye on the blood supremacy sentiment from escalating out of control. We may contact you for missions at times, but only when we cannot physically do it ourselves."

"Yeah? And I suppose we'll get a silly name like Team Strike Force Alpha?"

"Only if you think it's appropriate," Melvin shrugged.

Kenneth was silent for a moment, but eventually he responded, "Fine. But I get the final say on the missions that we do."

"A reasonable condition," Melvin answered. He turned around and readied himself to leave. "We will talk again soon."

Kenneth, however, wasn't done. "Wait a minute," he called. "You seem to know a lot about this threat from just one attack. You've fought them before, haven't you?"

Melvin tilted his head sideways, as if considering his next words carefully. "They… are a part of our past. One that will destroy us if we don't destroy it first."

* * *

In case you're wondering, yes, Healer Strout (first name Miriam) is a canonical Harry Potter character.


	9. Chapter 9

_Hermione took a deep breath and leaned back. Things were unraveling in ways she had expected, and in other ways she hadn't. The claim that children soldiers existed during the First War had always been a controversial one in the Ministry, but not entirely unfathomable. After all, that's what exactly happened during her own time, was it not? That's what Dumbledore's Army was about. Who's not to say that a similar thing hadn't happened before? During those times, even the Order of the Phoenix itself never balked at recruiting members who just graduated out of Hogwarts._

_It was the other information which had surprised her. The man she had been interviewing had danced around the issue for quite some time, but this was the first time that her suspicion had been confirmed. Arthur Melvin. The name stroke a strange chord within her. Hermione didn't know how many Arthur Melvins were there in the wizarding world, but only one matched the description that had been given to her._

_Arthur Melvin, leader of the mythical Knights of Walpurgis, was recruiting children soldiers out of Hogwarts._

The first thing Daniel felt when he stepped into Platform 9 ¾ was a warm body tackling him (or what felt like a tackle) and a pair of arms encircling him in a bear hug. "Oh, you're alright! I was so worried."

"Uh, yes. I am glad to see you too." Daniel felt warmth rising inexplicably to his cheeks.

Christine ignored—or more likely, didn't even noticed—the awkwardness in which Daniel tried to express himself. She looked him over, as if looking for wounds or scars. "I only heard bits and stories, that Diagon Alley was attacked by dark wizards. And then I heard your name mentioned over the airwave. Is it true? What did you see? How are you feeling? How about your parents? Are they alright too?"

Daniel's nervous laugh surprised Christine, but by this time she had known him well enough to realize that Daniel meant no harm by it. The boy simply didn't have the ability to express his emotions properly. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't give him a hard time about it, "Oh brilliant. You friend is concerned by your well-being and you're laughing straight to her face."

Her friend seemed to appreciate the humor. "Ah. Perhaps on the train?"

The Hogwarts Express let out a sigh, as if punctuating Daniel's words. Christine nodded emphatically and led the away into one of the carriages. Daniel, taking his usual place behind her, couldn't help but notice the subtle differences in the way the people around him acted. The parents held their children in their arms much longer than usual. Several adult wizards—no doubt Aurors sent to beef up security—tried to act inconspicuous and failed miserably. Christine was acting even more agitated than usual and considering what had happened, he couldn't say that he was surprised.

After setting themselves down in an empty compartment, Daniel asked, "Where's Mischa?"

"She'll be arriving tomorrow. Her parents are bringing her personally to Hogwarts," Christine bit her lower lip, obviously displeased with the arrangement. "My parents tried to do the same, but then they realized there's no way we're letting Muggles into Hogwarts itself."

"We?"

"Well, they… the wizarding community… you know what I mean." Christine positioned herself straight across from her friend and leaned forward. "It's the attack. Everybody's on edge. What the hell happened?"

Daniel gazed out the window, letting his mind organize itself. "I'm… honestly unsure. I was in the Alley, looking for… well, I can't remember and it probably doesn't matter anyway. It started with an explosion, I think. Thank goodness my parents weren't there. Then I must have blacked out. All I remember is fear. Extreme, debilitating fear, the kind that makes you want to curl up and hide somewhere until it goes away. The people at St. Mungo's believed that I was 'so traumatized that my mind repressed part of the memory.'" His air quote seemed comically out of place considering the gravity of his sentence.

"I've always thought that only happens on the telly," Christine commented. Meanwhile, the train finally jolted forward after letting out a loud whistle.

"Anyway, when I woke up, they told me that a group of wizards started attacking and killing everyone, and well, I suppose the rest you must've heard from the news." No, wait. That couldn't be right, could it? Daniel scratched the back of his head. Something was amiss, but he felt a metaphorical wall in his mind, blocking all access to that part of the memory.

Christine, too, seemed to be disappointed by it. "This is quite surreal."

"Heh. Tell me about it. I'm just glad I can put this behind me."

"Wait… you can't mean that you don't mind forgetting everything?"

"That sounds like a _great_ idea to me. Let the grownups worry about it, you know. I think Mischa would agree with me."

Mischa would, of course, but unfortunately, she wasn't there. Christine was, and she was passionate. "But this is the biggest thing that has happened in our lives so far. Aren't you curious at all about it? I mean, who are these guys and why are they doing such a thing? I mean, I think that even though we're not involved, we can't just turn a blind eye on something like this. All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing… or something like that. Besides," her voice turned somber. "My friend is affected by it. Can't let that pass, now can I?"

"You've made up your mind, then?" It was a rhetorical question, of course. "And I suppose you've also come up with a way to find out?"

The guilty grin on Christine's face convinced him that she hadn't. "Ah, I'm sure if we work on it…"

"Perhaps I can help, then." Both children in the compartment turned towards the source of the voice. A lanky, obviously older student stood on the doorway, his back flat against the frame in what probably passed as a cool pose for him. Before any of them could properly react, the boy stepped inside and offered a hand, "The name's Tennyson, Kenneth Tennyson."

* * *

This is probably the most insight we've had about Christine and Daniel so far.


	10. Chapter 10

_ "So that's all it took for them to work for Arthur Melvin? The mysterious stranger routine?" Hermione asked incredulously._

_ "Correction: that's all it took for Christine to work for Arthur Melvin, and all that was needed. The rest… well, the rest just followed."_

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ The old man clasped his hands. "Tell me, why did you follow the boy who lived?"_

_ "He's a friend. I'd do anything for him." Understanding came across Hermione's eyes. She said in a contemplative tone, "Friendship. So Miss Augustyn and Mr. Calder decided to fight out of friendship."_

_ "But you still have a question, yes?"_

_ "Alexei Volkov," she immediately jumped at the chance. "I've heard of the Volkov family before. Old Pureblood family, rich, used to be very influential in the Ministry. Why would their son Alexei join a movement like this?" _

_ Her companion chuckled. "One thing you should've realized from your experience is this: not all Pureblood nobles are short-minded blood supremacists and not all certainly saw the Dark Lord's 'revolution' as in their best interest. Alexei Volkov was one such person."_

"Chin up, Lex. Remember, impressions are everything." Alexei fidgeted impatiently in his newly pressed school uniform. He may view himself as a scheming manipulator, but he's also a thirteen-year-old boy. The speaker, Mr. Volkov Sr., sat across from his only child inside the family's horse-drawn carriage. Like most other wizarding properties, it had some quirky enchantments woven into its construction. For one thing, it's bigger on the inside, resembling more of a modestly sized cottage, complete with several compartments for sitting and sleeping while keeping the form of a carriage on the outside. It was in this sitting room that Alexei and his father had been talking. The horses also didn't seem to notice the weight all that additional mass should impart. Although the Volkovs usually restrained from using such antiquated (not to mention blatantly magical) method of transportation to avoid the inquisitive eyes of the Muggles, they had more liberty in backwater communities heavily populated by wizards.

The village of Tinworth was one such location. Located near the shores of Cornwall, the community largely took care of themselves. Large congregation of magical families lived in secret side-by-side with the Muggle population, who for the most part was either completely oblivious to their existence or otherwise strangely tolerant to the weirdness that seemed to keep happening around them. Being far enough away from any large population centers, Tinworth maintained a quaint, if picturesque, look. A horse-drawn carriage would not be a strange sight in these parts.

Suddenly Alexei's seat lurched forward, signifying that they had stopped. Wizards may be able to do a lot with their extended spaces, but apparently eliminating inertia wasn't one of them. The older Volkov stood up and ordered his son to wait for him in his seat. He then opened the door and stepped outside. Alexei heard voices, conversations, probably the usual pleasantries.

When Volkov Sr. returned into the sitting room, he was accompanied by a couple and a girl who looked to be their daughter.

Alexei stood up and acted the part he had been assigned, "Good morning. My name is Alexei Volkov, son of Sergei Volkov. It is a pleasure to have your acquaintance." He offered his hand to the other man.

The guest laughed but took his hand anyway. "Oh, no need to be so formal. I am Janak Augustyn and this is my wife Cecile and my daughter Mischa. The later gave him a small, awkward curtsy.

"Thank you so much for picking us up at our home, Mr. Volkov. With the incident in Diagon Alley we fear for our daughter's safety."

Mischa fidgeted but said nothing.

"Of course. It is my pleasure to help," said Sergei. "But please, sit. I wish to discuss some matter of importance with you, as I am sure you can understand." He turned to his son. "Lex, entertain dear Mischa in the meanwhile, if you please."

Alexei extended his arm formally towards Mischa and said, "Would you like to accompany me into the antechamber?"

"Of course." Something about her demeanor stroke Alexei as odd. Mischa was a graceful and sweet girl, somebody who seemed capable of acts of great love. She was fetching, there's no doubt about that, and whatever hesitation he might have felt about this arrangement soon disappeared. Yet something about that demure behavior seemed unnatural, much like his own behavior at the moment.

They stepped into a much smaller room with two benches situated opposite one another, each could be extended into a makeshift bed. Alexei motioned Mischa to take a seat. As the later complied, he spoke up, "I have to apologize for my parents' actions. I find this rather distasteful."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You. Me. This upcoming business merger is so important to my family that they are willing to involve us." His words were blunt, matter-of-fact.

Mischa laughed nervously. "My parents also wish me to 'charm that Volkov boy' for the good of the family. I just… I can't believe this. I'm almost glad that I've failed."

"You misunderstood," Alexei quickly interjected. "I think you are very attractive and only a fool would not try to woo you. It is my parents' view which disturbs me."

Mischa blushed profusely, but she inquired further, "What do you mean?"

It's Alexei's turn to turn red. "I misspoke… it's nothing of your concern."

She obviously did not buy it, but he was glad that she didn't choose to pursue it further. "So now what?" she asked.

"Well, My interest in you is completely real. I still wish that we can… continue to meet, regardless of the results of this merger."

"That's quite an unorthodox way of asking someone out. Where are the roses and the love poetry."

"Er… that is, I am unused to this. Perhaps I made a mistake and shouldn't…"

Even Mischa had to admit that the boy looked quite cute when he stammered like that. So the cold and stoic Alexei Volkov can be shaken after all. "No no no," she said, "I was just joking. It's… wow, I've never been in a relationship before too. I suppose we can give it a chance, though."

"Great!" Alexei looked surprised by his own outburst. "Ahem. I meant, I am glad."

"I am too," Mischa responded.

So far, exactly as planned.

* * *

I think my friend had a vehicle like this. Not wait, he had an Oldsmobile.


End file.
